


Monsters And Men

by King_of_Clubs



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Aasim (The Walking Dead: Done Running) Is A Bisexual Disaster, Aasim (The Walking Dead: Done Running) Loves Coffee, Bisexual Aasim (The Walking Dead: Done Running), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, MAAD, Mitch (The Walking Dead: Done Running) Is A Heterosexual Disaster, Mitch (The Walking Dead: Done Running) Loves Alcohol, Mitch And Aasim Delta, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_of_Clubs/pseuds/King_of_Clubs
Summary: What if Marlon traded away Mitch and Aasim instead of the twins? Eight months after, their initial capture, they finally get a chance to go back home.  Lilly allows them on the boat wanting them to convince the other kids to come with them. But it doesn't go to either group's plan.





	1. Chapter 1

               Mitch blankly stared up at the bunk above him. While waking up and starting the day so early got more natural, he was still more and more tired each day. "Hey, uh, Aasim?"

              “Yeah?”

              He stayed quiet for a moment before sighing. “Do you— never mind,” he muttered getting out of the bed, looking over at the window. “What shift is it?” he slid his boots onto his foot and started to tie them. “And what shift do we have today? I can’t remember the new schedule.”

              Aasim slid down the bunk bed's ladder, pulling back the curtains to look out the window. “It’s only the first shift if I am correct. We have the third watch today.”

              “So we actually have time for breakfast?”

              “We should,” Aasim shrugged.

              “Good, I’m hungry,” he laughed before cursing at himself when he dropped the shoelaces in his attempt to tie them. “Stupid fucking fingers.”

              The older sighed at the younger, looking at him with a sympathetic smile. "Do you need help? Just so you can get them tied? I don't mind just tying them for you," Aasim said. When Mitch first lost them, the other would help him get his shoes tied. The members had found a pair of boots Mitch's size that did not require tying laces, but because he's so stubborn, Mitch refused to use them. He did not want to accept help.

              “I fucking _got it_ , I’m not a baby, I can tie my fucking— goddammit!” he cursed as the shoelaces fell once again, trying to tie them again, anger flooding his movements. Mitch had the same problem every day, he got more impatient as time went forward. “God fucking damn it! Why won’t these shoes just fuckin’ tie?”

              “Dude, you need to use those non-lace boots they ended up finding. It will be a lot easier for you.”

              Mitch grumbled, ripping off the old boots, throwing them against the wall and going to the closet where he grabbed light brown boots that matched the color of his jacket and slipped them on his feet. No laces to tie, just ones that stretched so he could put them on and no zippers. Why had he been so reluctant to use them? “I’m sorry.”

              Making a shrug motion to get his jacket on, Aasim smiled. "Don't be. You lost your fingers, and that had to be like, really hard. You just need to accept help, even if that means changing something."

              Grabbing his own jacket and pushing his arms through, Mitch sighed. “I know, but I didn’t lose all of my fingers, so it could be worse. If I lost my entire hand, that would have been worse,” he said, shoving his hand in his pocket, furrowing his brow. “Um,” he muttered as he pulled his pockets inside out to look for the brown leather gloves he had adorned since losing his fingers. It was missing. “Fuck.”

              “What?”

              “I can’t find my fucking gloves,” the brunette responded with a blank expression on his face. “They’re always in my pocket. I can’t find them.”

              Mitch would get in _massive_ trouble if they caught him without the glove. They told him it was for his benefit; the leather would help with his grip. Both Aasim and Mitch had the feeling it was because they didn’t want to see the missing fingers; they didn’t want the scars to be visible.

              “Hey, hey, hey, calm down.” Aasim took a step toward Mitch, who was grasping his loose hair in a panic. “Mitchell. Take a deep breath. Hey, hey, _calm down_.”

              “I can’t just _calm down_! If they catch me without this stupid thing, I’m going to get in trouble again! They—”

              “It’s gonna be okay,” Aasim whispered.

              These people broke Mitch down to this and Aasim hated it with every fiber of his being. It was all pretending— acting, whatever, but it was _breaking_ the other, and it scared him. It scared him _so_ much, and he didn’t know how to handle the situation. Watching Mitch just break apart like that _hurt_ him so much. Aasim began to think not everything is an act to Mitch anymore; that he was accepting the philosophy. Every time he would make a mistake, no matter how brash or mellow, his apology was sincere, and it shook Aasim to his core. Someone so strong-willed, so persistent, like Mitch was, seem so vulnerable would make anyone weary.

              Eight months since their capture. Six months since Mitch started drinking. Five months since he started smoking. Two months since losing his fingers. A week since his last smoke. Only three days since his last drink and…

              The teen shook his head, getting rid of the thought, Mitch would be okay. He paused before looking straight up at the taller teen; he saw the fear and regret in his green eyes.

              Mitch turned and looked at the ground. “Do you think it possibly got under the bed?”

              “Mitchell…”

              “ **_Aasim_ **, do you think they got under the bed?”

              “I don’t know! Just look for yourself!”

              The taller got onto the ground, looking around frantically. It was nowhere in sight. Mitch jumped up, pacing the room. Every bad thing going through his mind. What would they do? Break all his fingers again? Maybe just cut off the entire hand? Get rid of him for good? Hurt Aasim? _What were they going to do?_

              The room grew silent as the older looked at younger's distress. Over the eight months, both of them have changed too much has changed, physically, mentally… psychologically. It had been a struggle for both of them.

              “Boys!”

              Aasim snapped up, straightened his back, and turned to the door where Lilly stood. “Yes, ma’am?”

              “Mitchell!”

              Eyes widened, Mitch hurried over to Aasim where he copied the posture of the other. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he muttered.

              “Are both of you ready?” she asked, eyes gazing down to Mitch’s hands, an angered look on her face. “Head down to the mess hall, you two are going on the boat today,” she said sternly, her grasp on the shotgun harsh.

              “But ma’am, we have the third shift watch today, and I haven’t been able to find my gloves—”

              The woman narrowed her eyes, looking at the two, gazing to meet Mitch's. "Well, look for them! Skip breakfast if you need to. _Find_ them. And someone is already taking your shift. I said you’re getting on that boat. Are you two going to argue with me? Mitchell, I really thought you would have learned by now. Am I going to have to pull the—”

              Mitch's eyes widened as he met her eyes. "N-No ma'am." He kept his gaze. There was no need for the pliers, he can behave. Lilly was one of the _very_ few people in the Delta that had been close to Mitch in height. That was a significant contribution to his immense fear of her. It was probably why she could make him do anything she wanted. "I am sorry."

              "Oh, it's alright Mitchell, I shouldn't have snapped. It's alright. Just head to the mess hall after you find your gloves, alright? After you're finished, meet the rest of the group by the boat. We will be waiting."

              “Do we need to get our weapons?” Aasim asked her.

              "Michell you have your knife?" she asked, smiling when he nodded, showing her the knife in its sheath. "Aasim, you have your gun?"

              "Yes, ma'am," he pulls his jacket back to reveal the holster with the gun on his hip.

              “Good. You two grab crossbows from the armory before you leave. Now Mitchell, _find those gloves_.”

              The two nodded as the woman left.

              “Mitchell, check in between the bed and the wall. I’ll check the closet.”

              Closing his eyes, Mitch sighed. "Okay," he said, opening his eyes and heading to the bed. "Where is it?" the breathy mutter came out as Mitch was shoving his hand in between, the wall and the mattress. "Ha!" he pulled out the single glove, the right glove.

              “Where is the other one?”

              "I don't know. I-I…" he said softly, slipping it onto his hand.

              “Mitchell, take a deep breath. We’re gonna find it okay?”

              The younger ran his hand through his hair, his breathing picking up. "Fuck," he muttered as he started to fight the tears that wanted to fall. "We— fuck, we have to find it! God, we... we have to! I-I—" his back slammed against the wall as he was backing up.

              Taking a step forwards, Aasim sighed. “You’re not listening to me. Take a deep breath. We’re going to find it.”

              “I can’t— Aasim I don’t—” choking on his tears, he laughed. Mitch knew what would happen if he didn’t wear it; he’d end up with most of his fingers broken, yelled at, and much worse. “Fuck!”

              Aasim turned his back, starting the search for the glove. “Just stay there and try to calm down,” he said with a soft smile, turning his head to watch Mitch slide down the wall and nod. “Where could it be?” he muttered. If one was between the wall and the bed, the other… “You sure it wasn’t under the bed?” he asked, sighing when Mitch hummed and nodded. Mitch always kept them in his pocket, it could have— “Here it is!” Aasim grabbed the glove, tailored to the other’s missing... assets on his hand, it was in the blanket.

              Mitch almost immediately snatched the glove, pulling it, on the other hand, tightening the velcro. “Thank you…” he muttered, hanging his head low.

              “No—”

              “I’m serious! When I— I get a whatever that was, and… fuck.” Mitch hung his head low. “Good, I need to keep better track of these, I don’t—”

              “Stop. Mitchell, it’s _okay_ ,” Aasim whispered. “They’ve hurt you too much. I’m so sorry. I… I can’t…” Aasim stopped, taking a deep breath through his nose. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.

              Mitch looked away. How could Aasim say that? Every punishment he received was for something he did. Aasim would get yelled at, or even hit him when he called Mitch by the nickname and not ‘Mitchell,' that's where the real injustice was; stealing and arguing is understandable to punish, maybe just not as harsh as they gave him; Mitch could say that much. "I'm fine," he sighed. He had to be if he wasn't okay, one of them would get hurt, and Mitch was _sick_ of seeing Aasim get hurt because of his actions. His best friend shouldn’t get hurt because of Mitch’s actions.

              Every _single_ time he made a mistake, a hand would find its way across Aasim’s face, and harsh words spat in his face. It was the only time Mitch couldn’t attempt to place the blame on himself instead of Aasim. He _always_ took responsibility. Aasim still got mad at Mitch when the younger teen did it, but Aasim didn't care. He was sick of it.

              “Hey, let’s just move to the mess hall, okay?”

              “Yeah, yeah. Okay,” Mitch nodded. “Wait.” He put his hand up before removing a hair tie from his wrist, pulling his hair into a low ponytail. “There,” he muttered before he made his way to the mess hall with Aasim not too far behind. “Do you think—”

              “Mitchell, I already know what you’re going to ask. You _know_ they never have alcohol at breakfast. Even if they did, you shouldn’t get drunk in the morning. We have to stay focused, we’re going on the _boat_.”

              Taking a moment to think, Mitch’s eyes widened. “Wait— do you… are you saying that we can run?”

              “If it’s safe,” Aasim clarified.

              Mitch smiled, grabbing the tray, almost dropping it twice, and heading to the line. Having good food is always great, but Mitch really did miss Omar’s cooking. No one he knew was able to make rabbit and fish taste good together like he did. It was terrific, or at least it was to Mitch. "Fruits, yay."

              “You know you can get something other than fruits and bread?” Aasim laughed, grabbing one of the cups of coffee. “You just eat that every day.”

              Raising the scarred left eyebrow, Mitch smirked. “You say as you have the exact same thing on your tray.”

              "Shut up, I actually have variety. I don't eat the same shit every single day," Aasim shook his head, sitting down at the table. "Are your—"

              “They’re _fine_ , Aasim, okay? It's been like two months. It isn't like stitches are going to pop or something," Mitch snapped. "There ain't a thing you can do about it so just drop it," he muttered. Mitch wished that he could have just stayed still that day. Losing a single finger was something the teen could have dealt with, but not what he got. His entire pinky, the first joints on his ring finger and the first joint on his middle finger. He did it to himself, and now he's suffering the consequences every day.

              “Mitchell, your grip—”

              “Just stop, okay? Please.”

              “I can’t just stop, Mitchell,” the ravenette sighed. “You lost your fucking fingers, I don’t think you can just… just move on past it like you’re pretending it will—”

              “I thought we were both pretending here,” Mitch quipped as he rose the scarred eyebrow.

              “That’s not what I fucking meant,” Aasim said under his breath. “Stop being so dramatic.”

              Mitch just finished the last of his bread and crossed his arms. “Just stop. I want… fuck,” he looked down. “Aasim, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I… I don’t know if I’m…”

              “What do you mean?”

              “I can’t do this!” he hissed. “They’re starting to get into my head! It’s like I’m not pretending! You said if we—”

              Aasim covered Mitch’s mouth with his hand. “Shut _up_! We can’t talk like that yet! Only when we are alone!” he whisper-yelled. “Do you really want to be thrown into that cell again?”

              “What? No! Of course not!”

              There was no way he was getting into another cell. No, not again. Mitch would probably end up breaking down if he has to be in another one. It would not go well, no not at all.

              “Then, shush! We’re going back to the school today! I looked at the schedule when I was on office guard last week. Mitch, she wants _us_ to convince them to get more kids here. But, if we are careful, we can get home without her even noticing. You can get home back to Brody and Willy. I… I can get back to Louis." Eyes looked away. He and Louis had only been dating for three months when Marlon traded them away. Mitch had been with Brody for almost half a year.

              “Do you think Willy is still alive?” Mitch asked, wide-eyes on the table. “Fuck, I hope he is. God if I get back and— and he’s _dead_ — I…”

              “Mitchell, Willy is still alive. He’s a tough kid.”

              “I know but… what if he’s not? What if he’s six feet under because _I wasn’t_ **_there_ **?”

              “Come on, Mitchell. You know William—”

              “Fine. Fine. Optimism… optimism... how the fuck did Louis always have so much optimism?”

              Aasim sighed. “He said you can’t just ignore the bad that happens, but you can focus on the good,” he glanced away. “Uh, good. We might go home.”

              “The bad; we might die, or our friends might die.”

              “The good; we might…” a long pause. “I don’t know.”

              The taller groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Not much good, I guess? **_Fuck_ **!” he muttered. “We should get going, right? She’s waiting.”

              “Armory,” Aasim muttered, standing up and placing the empty tray on the counter and his coffee cup in the clear bin for it to be washed later, and Mitch followed. “Let’s go," and with that, the two of them were off. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a new chapter, I just decided to split the first chapter into half! It was too long and I even got some "complaints" or whatever from some of my friends, so I decided this was the easiest thing to do.  
> The now third chapter will be coming up soon. How soon....?  
> Honestly, I don't know.

              The two headed to the armory grabbing the crossbows and quite a few arrows. Mitch swung the crossbow over his left shoulder, starting to look around. Everything was so neat, separated by long range, mid range and close range, and then the weapon. The gauge with the ammo for the gun close by. “Hey, Aasim, your pistol is a .380, right? How are you on ammo?” Mitch asked, looking through the pistols that were on the counter. “There are also silencers here.”

              "Yep, it's a .380, and I have a full clip. And, uh, I don't think I need a silencer. I don't know if Lilly wants me using one yet," Aasim said, putting the crossbow on his back and tightening the strap to fit him better.

              “Here.” Mitch handed him another two clips. “Just make sure you log it. There might be a lot of walkers. Clip them on your belt or something. Quick access or something.”

              “Thanks,” Aasim smiled, putting the clips of ammo on his belt.

              Mitch gave a small smile before swinging the crossbow over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” Mitch turned to leave only to have Aasim grab his hand. The taller ripped his hand out of the others grasp, staring at him.

              “Sorry, I-I forgot about that. And, just, wait for a second,” Aasim grabbed a combat knife. “Give me your knife.”

              “Um, okay.” Mitch pulled the knife out of his sheath, pointing the blade toward himself and the handle toward Aasim. “What’s up?”

              "That's about to snap. Just trade it out; this one is better anyway. We don't want you to be defenseless."

              Mitch took the newer knife with some reluctance, placing it into the sheath. “Now, we really should go. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my fingers broken again… It sucks and I just… Whatever! Let’s just get going.”

              They walked out to the dock in silence. Lilly was waiting for them.

              "Get inside now."

              "Yes ma'am," they say, heading in. The boat was small space wise, or at least it felt like it from the crowding. As soon as the gate was closed, the ship moved on the water heading to its destination.

              “You two are on lookout duty.” Lilly held a sniper rifle up to Aasim who took it with caution.

              “What? I get nothing?”

              “You’re nowhere near as skilled as he is with the rifle. If you can just stay patient, I’ll get to you.” The woman snatched an axe from the corner of the room. “If anything gets its way onto the boat, you two are in charge of making sure it dies. Understand?”

              Mitch took the axe, holding it with both hands. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

              “Aasim?”

              “Oh, y-yes, ma’am!”

              She narrowed her eyes and sighed. “ _Don’t_ **_disappoint_ ** _me_.” And with that, she walked off.

              The axe in Mitch’s hands shook as he scoffed. “Why the fuck do I feel fucking happy to have this?!” he said in a way he was scolding himself. It was just an _axe_ , nothing more. He shouldn’t _care_ he got it. Why does he care? He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. These people shouldn’t _matter_ to him, what they say or do shouldn’t _matter_.

              “Mitch, you—” Aasim stopped, looking around once realizing his mistake. “M-Mitchell… um… just let’s go, okay?”

              The younger sighed. "Yeah." Mitch climbed the latter, popping open the hatch, looking at the top of the boat. "How did you get the sniper and I'm just stuck with melee?"

              “You’re a tank. That’s what you get for being six foot,” he elbowed his taller friend. “You’re a giant.”

              “I am _not_ six foot, I am not _that_ tall!” he let out a small laugh. “Dude, I’m like, the same height as Lilly. Anyway, I think she’s taller than me.”

              Aasim rolled his eyes. “I was exaggerating.” He sat down in the chair. “My reason still stands. You’re tall, muscular, you’re just big. In military standards, you’re a tank, brute, whatever. Not only am I a lot shorter than you, but I also don’t have the same muscle build. I’m just more skilled at a long range,” he shrugged. “That’s how it has always been, hasn’t it? I was the archer at the school. I would hunt, while you…”

              “While?”

              “I remember teaching Willy to shoot. God, he was— is such a quick learner, I still feel bad I couldn’t teach him to shoot left-handed though,” Aasim closed his eyes. “Sorry, I just meant you with your knives.”

              Mitch took a seat on the ground next to Aasim. "Is it weird I miss carving shit? Not just weapons and the spears, just… I enjoyed doing it. I would like just… carve. It always kept me busy and… I just… That isn't weird, right?"

              “God, I fucking miss writing,” Aasim laughed. They had conversations like this a lot. “I just… It isn’t weird, Mitch. Not at all.”

              “Yeah, I guess…” Mitch stared at the shoreline. “Do you think we can run?”

              Aasim sighed. “I don’t think so. They’d go straight to the school to find us. They’ll just end up killing or taking everyone—”

              "The school isn't our only option! I don't care; I just want out of here!” he leaned toward the other.

              “Mitchell, no matter where we fucking go, _they’ll_ go to the school! Doesn’t matter if they know where we are! They’re just going to take our friends and put them through the same shit we do! Is it really worth it? Please, Mitchell, just think!”

              Shoulders falling, the teen groaned as he sat back where he was. “Okay,” he looked down.

              Aasim didn’t say anything else, the two sat in silence for quite a while.

              Mitch yawned dramatically, stretching. “You think she’ll let me keep this axe? Or am I just going to have to give it back?”

              “If you don’t act up,” Aasim deadpanned, eyes forward.

              “This is way better than the knife.”

              "Yes, it's a fire axe, Mitchell," he snapped before sighing. "Sorry I'm just exhausted, and I just want this watch to be over."

              Mitch sighed, leaning back, so he was laying down on the roof of the boat, his left hand making its way in front of his face. He stared at the missing fingers with a sad expression on his face, he wanted nothing more than just to wake up and have all ten fingers again. He stared at the missing parts of his hand sadly, turning his hand to get a full glimpse of it. "I wish I was a starfish."

              “Umm, okay.”

              “No, it’s just… Willy told me that Tenn told him starfish can grow limbs back. I… yeah. Aasim, I’m just saying I want them back, okay?”

              “Oh. Uh, yeah. That would be nice.”

              Mitch chuckled, placing his hand in his pocket. "Image all those bite victims. They wouldn't have to be like… you know what I mean."

              “But it’s kind of weird you just said that with no context.”

              “I gave you context!”

              Aasim let out a laugh. “Starfish.”

              "God, you're never gonna let me live that down."

              “Nope!”

              Mitch sighed, looking away. "I'm serious, though. I fuckin' hate my hand so much, Aasim. I just wish my fucking fingers would grow back, like just fully functioning. I don't know. I hate them."

              Aasim looked sadly at Mitch. He’d never talked about how he’s felt about his hand whenever Aasim would ask, Mitch would just dance around it. “Do you get like, phantom stuff? Like you can still feel them? Even though they're gone?”

              "Yeah, it's super weird. My hand will be itchy, and I'll go to scratch it and— well the fingers aren't there." Mitch sat up, closing his eyes, his right-hand ghosting over the scarred left side of his face.

              “How did that heal?”

              “Fine. I’m just glad I’m not blind. Hey, I don’t blame you…”

              The older shrugged and looked to the side. “I’m still sorry.”

              “You didn’t mean—”

              "That doesn't matter! We've been here for like, the entire day. Is someone going to come and take our shift? Or is this—"

              “Yes, I am, head down for your next shift.”

              Aasim’s eyes widened at that. “What? Next shift? We were here basically _all_ day! I thought we got—”

              “Boy, give me that rifle and **_go_ **.”

              Aasim handed the rifle over, muttering, “my name is fucking Aasim, not ‘ **_boy_ **.' Sir."

              “I don’t care about your fucking name,” the man snapped. “I don't know why she gave _you_ the gun. You’re just—”

              Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Because he’s probably a better shot than you,” he sneered, looking down at the shorter man before walking off himself, Aasim close behind.

              “Dude—”

              “He’s a dick. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have done that. Stop just defending these people that are just assholes to you.”

              Aasim crosses his arms. “And you need to stop defending me. Mitchell, how many times have you gotten hurt because you decided it was a smart idea to defend me?”

              “I’m—”

              “Well just stop, Mitchell. I don’t know what your infatuation with defending me is, but stop! I’m fucking sick and tired of it!”

              Mitch took a step back. “What, you want to get fucking hurt?!”

              "No! But I'm sick of seeing you get hurt because of me! Mitchell, you're my best friend, but you're a fucking lunatic. Just stop! Please."

              “Why? What did you do to deserve being hurt?”

              “What did _you_ do?! Steal alcohol? What made that warrant your fucking fingers cut off?! Argue with authority? What makes that necessitate fucking broken fingers? Call me by my nickname—”

              “What makes it right to hit someone who just called another person a shortened version of their name?”

              Aasim groaned in frustration. “Mitch, just fucking stop!” he shouted before freezing. Lilly was right by him. “I-I meant Mitchell.”

              "The damage has been done. Aasim, I requested one thing from you. Call Mitchell by his full name, and you use a nickname in private? Do you realize how disrespectful that is to me?"

              "No ma'am it was an accident. Aasim still calls me Mitchell in private—"

              Aasim was frozen, he wanted to tell Mitch to stop, but he couldn't move, he couldn't speak. He wanted to argue with Lilly too. She has requested— more like demanded so much from both of them.

              “Mitchell, stop arguing with me,” she said sternly before raising her hand to slap Aasim as hard as possible, enough to knock him into the wall and onto the floor. “And Aasim, be better with how you speak. Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

              “Y-Yes ma’am,” he responds, holding his cheek from pain. It was a bright and angry red.

              “Good,” she muttered before walking off.

              “Are you okay?” Mitch bent down to Aasim’s level. “That looked like a pretty hard slap, dude.”

              “I’m fine, just stings,” Aasim stood up, making Mitch stand up and take a step back as well. “Stings quite a bit.”

              “Are you sure?”

              The older nodded, sighing. “Yeah. Yeah…”

              "Okay…" Mitch said he was still worried about the other. "Do you need to go get some—"

              “I’m fine!” he snapped at Mitch. “Sorry— I didn't… I’m sorry.”

              Mitch softly smiled, concern filling his green eyes. “It’s okay, dude. You get a little snappy sometimes, that’s fine. No need to worry man, I got you.”

              Aasim let out a small laugh. “Yeah. That’s always been a little bit of a problem of mine.”

              The taller didn’t respond and instead turned around. “What do you think our next shift is?”

              "Lilly didn't tell us to do anything, so I don't think we have one. She would have said something if we were supposed to be doing something else, right? I think that we can just go to the rooms. I mean she's not the type of person to just leave without telling us if we have like a job to do? Right? I mean, she didn't tell us that the shifts on the boat were like the entire day and not just three or four hours like back at the base. I mean maybe we can go and ask her but like, dude, I umm, like. Sorry, god I'm rambling really hard right now. I'm sorry."

              "Hey, it's okay. And yeah, I think you're right. She would tell us if we had a job to do. So maybe we should… I don't know. What do you think that we should do?"

              “Aren’t we supposed to have rooms on this ship?”

              “Common rooms. There’s only two. Girls and boys,” Mitch laughed.

              “Uh, what’s funny?”

              "They normally split boys and girls, so they don't like you know, get it on, or whatever, but…" Mitch stopped and sighed. "Never mind. Just forget I said anything," he looked over at a window on the boat, and he sighed once again. "How long do you think it will take for us to get back to the school?”

              "Well to get to the Delta, it took only three days, right?"

              “And like only one day has passed… ug. I just… I hate this place. I hate it so much. I just want to go home— I want to just get out of here.”

              Aasim looked at the other with understanding eyes. “I know… but we can’t put the others in danger. What happens if we escape and then they come after us? We would lose, and who knows who would die. Mitchell, I know you want to get home to Brody, to Willy, but you need to think.”

              “Will they really come after us, you think?”

              “Yes, I know they will. I keep thinking of any possible way that we can get out without having to worry about if they’re going to be coming after us, but god, I can't think of one. I’m sorry.”

              "There has to be away! Come on!"

              “Keep your voice _down_ , we're already in enough trouble as it is, so please, just lower your voice!" Aasim said in a stern voice, furrowing his eyebrows before he took a step back, eyes wide before he realized what he did.

              Mitch takes a step back. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” he muttered. Words and how they were said had really changed him. He hated it.

              “I’m sorry I—”

              “It’s fine. I’m fine. Okay? Don’t worry about it.”

              "Okay…" Aasim couldn't help but worry, though. He hated how more often than not, Mitch would just bottle up his emotions and then drink them away. And when Mitch drank… well, it was never pleasant, and Aasim would almost always end up worrying way too much about him. Emotions are hard, Aasim should know, he's always struggled with expressing himself, but at least he tries to explain how he feels, how it is affecting him. Mitch doesn't.

              There's nothing he can do about it though. He has tried talking to Mitch about it, but the younger teen would never listen to him. He would always just insist that he's okay or that he just needs some time alone. Nothing else.

              Mitch stared at his left hand before harshly shoving it in his pocket. He took the axe which was on the ground and hauled it on to his shoulder. “Let’s go, okay?”

              “Mitchell…”

              “What, you want to sit around here and just talk? Let’s figure out what the hell we’re supposed to be doing and then let’s just go.”

              "Alright…" Aasim said. The two of them started to walk to the direction when the boat shook, and a loud sound echoed through their ears.

              “Fuck, hold on—”

              “Shit!” Aasim shouted in pain as he grabbed onto a bar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed in pain. He collapsed under himself as he groaned. The axe had slid down the boat and sliced through Aasim’s leg. Blood was everywhere.

              Mitch stared at Aasim with fear in his eyes.

              “Get off the boat! Now!” one of the members yelled as she ran past the two teens.

              “Put your arm around my neck, I’ll help you, we need to get off this boat,” Mitch bent down to allow Aasim to wrap his arm around him. “Let’s hope whatever just happened it doesn’t fucking kill us.”

              Aasim just groaned, limping severely as the two of them headed to the shore. The boat had hit a rock, that’s what the loud sound was.

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey its back! The children are back! Yeehaw!

               

               Mitch helped Aasim sit down on a rock as he looked around. “Abel? Sir, where’s the medic?” he asked, glancing at the other who took off his boot and rolled up the pant leg. Aasim was bleeding out, and they needed the medic fucking pronto. “Abel, fucking get the medic now, sir.”

               The man looked at Mitch with a confused expression, lighting a cigarette in his mouth. “What happened— holy fuck, what happened?”

               “When the boat crashed—” Aasim hissed harshly from the pain. “The fuckin’ axe slide or somthin’ and fucking sliced me,” he said with his teeth clenched. “Hurts like a bitch. I need the doc like right fuckin’ now.”

               Mitch glanced up at the barely taller man before scoffing. “Do you know where she is or not?” he unzipped his jacket pocket, taking out a cigarette of his own. 

               “You two stay put, I’ll get her,” Abel said and started to walk away.

               With a sigh, Mitch lit the cigarette and sat down against a rock, diagonal to Aasim, legs bent in the air. 

               “Mitchell…” Aasim glanced at the object in between Mitch’s pointer finger and what was left of his middle.

               “Just ignore it,” the brunette muttered, letting out a breath of smoke. “I just need it right now, okay?” he said quietly.

               Aasim rolled his eyes. “You’re going to get lung cancer, you’re going to die.”

               “Good. I’m ready to die— wait, shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Mitch sighed, rubbing his eyes with his right hand. “Fuck, that’s not what I… Aasim… I didn’t…”

               The older groaned from the pain, about to say something when the medic ran over with her bag. As usual, make him chug alcohol, which he always _hated_. Unlike Mitch, Aasim was not a fan of the taste of alcohol. Since the Delta hadn’t been able to really make anything for numbing the pain, they decided that making the patients drunk would be a better idea.

               She glanced up at Aasim and grabbed the leg. “Can you feel it still?”

               “No,” he muttered, he was such a lightweight when it came to drinking, he already felt shitfaced. “Just go ahead.”

               “Okay,” she said under her breath as she started to stitch up the wound. Aasim hissed from the pain but nothing more. She finished, tying a knot in the fishing line before cutting it. “Mitchell, make sure he stays off of that leg.”

               “Yes ma’am,” Mitch said allowing a puff of smoke to come out of his mouth as he spoke.

               “We’ve set up tents, you two are in the green one.” Lilly turned on her heel and left for her own tent. It was getting late. How had the day passed so quickly?

               Mitch helped Aasim stand up, getting over to the tent.

               “You smell fucking gross.”

               The younger teen was stunned for a moment before realizing the other was drunk and referring to the cigarette smell. “Yes, that's what smoking does, it has a smell,” Mitch sighed, pushing back the tent and laying Aasim on the ground. All they got were two limp pillows, not even a damn blanket.

               “Your hair looks stupid,” Aasim was slurring his words. “Ponytails look dumb on you.”

               “Thanks.”

               “It wasn’t a nicey-nice. Your hair don’t look nice, it looks stupid,” Aasim stammered and tripped over the sentence. 

               Mitch had to stop himself from making a comment, but groaned and said: “I’m not even this stupid while drunk. You need to get to bed.”

               The older let out a drunken laugh. “You’re dumber. You do stupid shit. Imma just sayin’ dumb stuff.”

               “Aasim—”

               “You do such dumb shit. Whatcha gonna do if ya—”

               “Aasim, _please_ don’t,” Mitch pleaded with the other. He didn't want to hear this. Not today. Not by his drunk friend either. 

               “—go too deep? I don't wanna have you die. Yer my best friend,” Aasim said drunkenly, slurring his words. “I don’t wanna lose ya.”

               Mitch started to mess with the sleeve of his shirt through his jacket. He _hated_ it when he got drunk. He did things to himself he hated, things he wouldn't do otherwise… But he won’t stop drinking. It’s his only escape from his own head. His finger grazed over a scar and he let out some air he didn't realize he was holding, closing his eyes.

               “Aasim go to sleep, please.”

               “Why?”

               “For fuck's sake, just go to fucking sleep,” the teen plopped down on the pillow, looking the other way as the older. “Just go to sleep.”

               “You wanna be a starfish.”

               “Oh my god, you have _one_ bottle of alcohol, how are you so fucking drunk? Like what the fuck? You are such a fucking lightweight.”

               Aasim laughed, falling back. “Night Mitchie.”

               “Fucking good night,” Mitch ignored his drunken friend, falling asleep.

 

                _“You’re stealing from us!”_

                _Mitch dropped the bottle as it shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor, the liquid spilling everywhere. “No! No, I wasn’t! I’m sorry ma’am!” He looked down at the floor in a panic. He spilled it, he was going to get in so much trouble._

                _“Mitchell! You’re stealing? It’s never okay! How dare you steal from us? We’re family.”_

                _“Oh fuck off! You can handle not having a few bottles of alcohol in your system. Please just back the fuck off! Please!”_

                _Lilly sighed. “Dorian. Do it.”_

                _The tall woman smiled, grabbing a meat cleaver, knocking Mitch down. “The more you struggle, the worse it will be,” she snarled._

                _“Stop! I won’t!” he continued to struggle when Dorian brought down the cleaver, chopping off more fingers than intended. His pinky, the first two joints of his ring finger, and the first joint and a little more of his middle. All gone… “Fuck! Fuck!” Mitch screamed from the pain. He didn’t want to, but he even started crying._

                _“Mitchell!” Aasim shouted, going to run to his friend but held back by Lilly. “Let me go!”_

                _“I told him to stay still.”_

                _“Fuck, oh shit… fuck,” Mitch started crying harder, holding his hand to himself, staring at the now severed fingers. “Fuck!” he felt the tears stream down his face. God, what had he done?_

                _“Don’t patch him up. Just leave him alone,” Lilly snapped, throwing Aaism to the ground and walking out of the room. Dorian and the others followed her._

                _Mitch stared at his bleeding hand. “Fu-Fuck.”_

                _“It’s okay Mitch, it’s okay…” Aasim said, ripping his shirt, wrapping up Mitch’s hand. He zipped up his jacket. “Here, here, is this tight enough?”_

                _“It hurts so fucking much.”_

                _“It’ll be okay. I promise.”_

                _“Fucking— Aasim look at my hand!” Mitch cried out, shaking. This was so fucked._

 

               Mitch jumped up, looking around before leaving the tent. “Fuckin’ brain,” he muttered, taking out a cigarette to smoke it. The memory… it hurt him to even think about it. Knowing if he would have just stayed still like he was told, he wouldn’t have lost as many fingers as he did, he would have lost just one. His pinky.

               “What are you doing Mitchell?”

               “Shit— Maxwell—”

               “What are you doing out here?”

               Mitch looked at the other sternly. “Taking a smoke break,” he looked at the other’s brown eyes with his green ones. “Can you not tell?”

               The other teen laughed sternly. “Just hope you don’t get caught.”

               “I ain’t gonna.”

               “Where are ya even from? Before the dead came to eat our asses.”

               “Virginia, West Virginia… Basically, I lived in both,” Mitch sighed. “I think I technically lived in Virginia, but I went to school in West Virginia, went to a boarding school there…”

               Max raised an eyebrow. “That’s because you make bombs, right? Ya blew up shit?”

               “Eyup,” Mitch said. “I was into chemistry and that kind of stuff at a young age.”

               “Then the dead came up.”

               “And ate our asses like you said,” Mitch let out a drag of his cigarette. 

               The younger cocked his head. “Could I have one?”

               “No. I’m not gonna let you copy my bad habits. Like what are ya? Thirteen?”

               Max crossed his arms. “Fourteen. My birthday was like… a few weeks ago.”

               “Still. You’re a kid. I’m not going to let ya copy me. If you really want it, just ask Abel. He’s the one who supplied me when I first started— Actually I think he’s the one who got me started. So yeah, just ask Abel.”

               “No. He scares me…”

               The older sighed. “Yeah… same, dude. I… he scares a lot of people I think.”

               Abel was a creepy man. It wasn’t just how he made himself appear, but he was just… creepy. He talked to all the kids in such a creepy tone. He even would... touch some of the kids in ways. Very sensually. He even tried to do so with Mitch, but he very quickly ‘learned’ with a hard enough elbow slam to the gut to knock down the older man. But that didn’t stop the man from trying every once and a while, and it never stopped the verbal harassment.

               “If he gives you any problems, let me know, okay?” Mitch let out a drag of smoke. “ I can, and _will_ take care of him if you need me to.”

               “I… Okay.”

               Mitch stood up. “I’m going to head back to bed, you keep watch okay? Like you were before I interrupted.”

               Max laughed. “Yeah. It’s kinda my job, I wish I could go to sleep, but I have to keep watch!”

               “Yeah, I get the feeling, I’ve been there. Night kid,” Mitch said. ‘Kid’... It was really easy to forget he was a kid as well.

               “Night…”

               Mitch turned to head back to his tent, he was tired and really wanted to go back to bed.

               “What were you doing out?”

               The younger sighed. “Go back to bed Aasim. I’m fine. Just…. go back to sleep.” He _really_ just wanted to go to fucking sleep.

               “No, what happened?”

               Aasim always had to press on, never mind his own damn business. Mitch rolled his eyes. “I just went out, what is the problem…?”

               “Did you go out smoking?”

               “What do you fucking think, Aasim?” 

               Aasim rolled his eyes. “Just get to bed.”

               “On it,” Mitch snapped, laying back down, and turning away from Aasim, and falling back to sleep rather quickly.

               The older was always worrying… and it was obvious to see why. All Mitch would do is self destruct. That's _it._ And Aasim was getting tired of seeing his best friend like it.

               Aasim fell asleep rather quickly for once, despite his insomnia.

               But in the morning he was awakened by loud yelling. He stepped out of the tent to watch what was happening, and he froze.

               “Mitchell, take off your jacket. Now!” Lilly shouted.

               He fought. Of course, he did. Mitch wasn't going to let this asshole take control of him. “No! I am not! You can't make me bitch!”

               “I will grab the pliers, you do not talk to me like that—”

               The word pliers echoed in his ears and the teen complied, eyes wearily looking at the woman as he slid off his jacket, tying it around his waist. He knew what was coming next. He didn’t know if he was prepared.

               “Now roll up the sleeve of your shirt.”

               “What? No, m-ma’am—”

               “ _Mitchell._ ”

               The teen pulled up his sleeve, gasping when the woman tightly grabbed his arm, shaking him, pulling him slightly off the ground with a _single_ hand. “You’re weak, Mitchell. You’re always acting like you’re so _strong_ , but you’re just another weakling that I have to deal with. Stop acting so high and mighty. You’re _nothing_.”

               “Ma’am, I—”

               “Look at yourself, Mitchell! You’re missing these fingers, you have _scarred_ yourself. Don’t act like you are _so_ tough when you aren’t. You’re just another  _weak_ child,” she snapped. “Look what you do to yourself! How can you act like you are so _strong_! You are the weakest one here. You’ve been here for only half a year and then some—”

               “E-Eight months, m-ma’am,” he said quietly. That’s how long he’s been here. A lot longer than just half a year.

               “Yes. You’ve been here eight months and you’ve already had such bad self-destructive tendencies! Maxwell has been here for almost two years. Do you see him hurting himself?! No!”

               The teen started shaking more, wanting to cry. What _happened_ to him? Why is he so weak? What big and strong tank cries under little pressure? Apparently, Mitchell, that’s who. He felt so weak at that moment. Like Lilly was right about everything.

               “Lilly, stop ma’am, please. He understands!” Aasim yelped, finally being able to speak which he couldn’t before.

               The woman let go of Mitch with a saddened expression. “Mitchell, I don’t want to see this from you again. Okay? If I do, I will feed you to the walkers, and I won’t have mercy.”

               “Y-Yes ma’am,” he muttered as the woman left, as well as the people who had surrounded him. He shoved his sleeve down putting on his jacket. “Fuck…” he looked over at Aasim, fear in his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore… we need to leave… now.”

               “Mitchell, are you insane?”

               The taller of the two shrugged. “Yeah, maybe I am. But, I can’t do this. They’re _getting into my head._ They don’t get to _control_ me! I’m me! Not— not them! I’m the one in control of _me_!” he started pacing. “You’re hurt, but we can do this! They _trust_ you, Sim!”

               “What does trust have to do with this?”

               “They trust you! We run, you’ll be fine. We’re close to the school, yeah? I know we said—”

               Aasim sighed. “Tonight. We’ll run. Your crossbow, axe, and knife will be our mainline. Don’t tell anyone about this… it will go horribly if anyone finds out about this…” he wouldn’t actually run, he just needed Mitch to believe it. He felt like shit for lying to Mitch, but it was something that needed to happen to ensure their safety. Make him believe they’re leaving:.. then don’t run. He wasn’t sure how it would work but wanted to make sure it would.

               Mitch nodded, looking over his shoulder. He really couldn’t last another day in this place. His last bits of self-control were falling out of grasp. Not he had much grasp with his hand anyway… Messed up, just like the rest of him…

               “Sun goes down?”

               “We’re out.”

               Aasim nodded. Lying to Mitch sucked. Mitch was breaking and they needed to get out.

               Mitch grabbed another cigarette and rolled his eyes. “We have nothing to do… why… why don’t we run now?”

               Aasim sighed. “No, we need to do it when it’s dark, so we can’t get caught as easily, okay?” he wanted to run just as much as Mitch did, but that would be impossible to do in _broad fucking daylight._ And running would never, ever be safe. So they needed to stick to the plan that they _literally_ just talked about. At least until Aasim could come up with a better lie.

               “Fine, guess that's the mother fuckin’ plan.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter is shorter than what you'd expect, I couldnt possibly make it longer without ruining the chapter.

Aasim could feel his heart racing in his chest as the night began to fall. Mitch, on the other hand, was feeling nothing but pure adrenaline and had no time to be nervous.

“What do we do if they catch us running?” 

“I don’t know, you’re the smart one here,” Mitch rolled his eyes. “I mean, they’ll probably come and check in on us, since, ya know, they literally just broke my fingers…” he looked down at the hand where they used some wooden dowels to keep the fingers straightened. “So…”

“I said I would keep an eye on you, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Aasim shrugged. “Are… are you sure we’re ready?” 

Mitch let out a small laugh. “Uh, hell yeah, we are.”

That confidence… Aasim wished he shared. “How? How do you know? I mean, so many things could go wrong? What if a walker gets to us? What if someone notices and catches us? What— What if we can’t find the school, so we end up by ourselves? What— what if—” 

“Sim! Take a deep breath!” Mitch put his hands on the shoulders of the other. “Dude, we can do this. We  _ need _ to do this. You need to get home to Louis. I need Brody and Willy… we have to.”

“But what if we  _ can’t _ ?! Mitchell— I— what if—”

“If a walker finds us? We kill it. If someone notices us? We run faster. If they catch us? We kill their ass. If we can’t find the school? We never stop looking,” Mitch said sternly, inside a little proud of himself for being… somewhat inspirational, at least in his own mind. 

“Mitchell…”

“Hey, we can do it. You’re smarter than like all the fuckers on that boat combined,” he smiled, “Well, if course excluding me, I am smart too, so then we’d beat you by a little.” 

Aasim snorted. “Yeah, you are smart, even if you don’t act like it.”

“Hey!” Mitch laughed. 

“You know it’s true.”

Mitch laughed more and slowed with a small smile. “Now… um…”

“Look, we’re going to run and hide…”

“Smarty-smart pants came up with that?” 

Aasim rolled his eyes. “You got anything else, semi-smart boy?” he poked his elbow. “But… uh seriously, I think that’s the best way to do this… but if you do have any other ideas? I would… I would love to hear it.” 

“Uh… yeah, I don’t… sorry. So what do we do?”

Scouting the area, Aasim pointed to a rock, “We run up there, then to that rock, and… then lastly the bush in the forest before… taking off… then we’re homebound,” he sighed. Something would go wrong; he could feel it in his bones, but… they needed to do this. They needed to be free, and this… this was the only way. He at first lied to Mitch about running, but that just made him realize how much he, too, wanted to get away from this place.

“Okay, it looks like everyone who doesn’t have the night ship has gone to their tents,” Mitch commented. “So…?”

“Alright, alright, now remember we’re doing night watch so we can walk, the hiding spots are… the rocks are only if they start firing? Or something like that. You never know what could happen. We’re not the only ones that have night watch, so we have to be very careful…” Aasim let out a shaky breath. “We can do this, right?” 

“We can, we can do this dude. We’re the only ones on this side of the beach so that no one will catch us, probably…” 

“Mitchell, that isn’t very reassuring…”

“I know I’m sorry. But things will go right… and so we can basically walk on?” 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s what we do…”

Mitch started doing just that, Aasim following. “So first rock,” he looked around, “no one has seen us,” he said, walking more to the second. “This is too easy. Right? Something has gotta come up and fuck us over.” 

“Dude! Don’t jinx it!”

“Alright… alright… sorry I won’t… ‘jinx’ it, whatever the fuck that means,” Mitch looked out. “The forest is coming up. It looks clear,” Mitch said, taking off without the say, Aasim running after him when a loud  **_ BANG _ ** filled their ears, and Aasim fell to the floor.

“Fuck!” Aasim hissed. “They shot my leg— fuck oh fuck, oh shit,” he cried. “My fucking left leg, god fucking damn it!” 

“I-I got you,” Mitch tried to pull Aasim into safety, but the gun kept firing. “Aasim? Come on, at least try and help me get you out of here, ya know…” 

Aasim looked at the guns firing before looking back at Mitch. “Hey, hey, just go.

Mitch stammered. “J-Just leave you?”

“Yes, go! See Willy again. See Brody! Just… Just please…”

The other listened and started running as fast as he could into the forest. Aasim laid his head on the ground, breathing heavily, not even trying to hide; there was no use in even trying.  _ Fuck _ . He thought, feeling a gun press upon his forehead, right between his eyes.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Aasim, I really thought you’d be better than this. I really thought I  _ finally _ got a good one.”

“S-Suck my dick, Lilly.”

She let out a malicious laugh. “Mitchell really got into you, huh? I am not that kind of woman,” she grabbed him by his collar and began to drag him back onto the boat. Which they somehow fixed, or at least it was floating completely again — reopening the axe wound and leaving a bloody trail wherever she dragged him. “Dorian! Dorian now!” 

“Yes, ma’am?” she said, standing at attention, hands to her side and head high, but eyes on Lilly.

The woman pulled Aasim up by his collar, which was almost choking him. “I caught Mitchell and Aasim running. I shot him in his leg to keep him from going further, but Mitchell still got away,” she threw Aasim at the other rather harshly. “Find out what you can from this one. Take any method you please.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Dorian gave a sick smile as she grabbed some brass knuckles, straddling Aasim, about to give him the beating of his life. “Why’d you two run?” 

“It was Mitchell’s idea! He said we should run, and I just entertained the idea! I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did!” 

She punched him. “Why didn’t you say anything?! Tell someone in a higher power so we could have punished him accordingly?” 

“I-I was scared! I didn’t—” he cried, the pain from getting hit by Dorian was excruciating. Tears couldn’t stop flowing down his face, and it hurt so much, it was like his life went into slow mode. 

She started him over and over, harder and harder each and every time. “Where is he going? Where is he now? How do we get him back?!” 

“I don’t know,” he started sobbing. “I don’t know I am so, so sorry!” 

“Where is he?” the woman punched the teenager’s face once again, hitting right where his eye was. And she hit  _ hard _ .

Aasim could see the vision in his eye start to disappear as she was hitting his  _ eye _ . “I don’t fucking know!” he growled through his teeth. “I don’t know where he is or where he’s going. He has no fucking weapons other than his knife, and he will probably end up loosing in or something! He’s probably dead, got bit by a walker! I don’t know, I’m sorry, I-I just, I don’t know! He said we should j-just run, and that’s it! I don’t know where!” 

“Dorian, stop! You went way too fucking far. Throw him in a cell. Mitchell is dead; there’s no use beating it out of him. If he isn’t dead now, he’ll be dead soon. Aasim is family, and you went too far. Just throw him into a cell.” 

Aasim wrangled his way out of Dorian’s grasp, standing up, touching his eye. “Couldn’t even get me something to stop the bleeding before you throw me in a cell.” 

Lilly threw a ragged old dishcloth at him. “There you go. Clean it as well as you can, and the medic will come to help you soon enough.” 

He said nothing, using it to place on his eye, accepting it when Dorian grabbed him by the hood and thrown into a cell. “Fucking stupid! Good god, you’re dumb, Aasim,” he muttered to himself, leaning against the wall. He began to stare at the blood making its way down his face and onto his coat and shirt as he breathed heavily. “Fucking stupid!” he kicked his legs angrily into the wall.

He wanted to cry. He was so fucking close to getting out of there, and he didn’t make it. He was going to end up rotting away in that prison cell because they’d give him some mediocre medicine.

He sat there for what felt like hours, knees to his chest, sobbing. He was always holding the dishrag up to his bleeding face, occasionally kicking the wall out of anger until he ran out of energy and fell asleep.

“Open it,” Lilly’s voice echoed through the hall as the door opened and the medic, Janice, walked in, knocking Aasim out of his sleep

“Don’t squirm, don’t whine, and for the love of God, don’t cry.” She grabbed a bottle of alcohol, forcing him to drink it.

“Beer? Why the hell are you giving me a beer?”

She snarled, “Ain’t wasting the good shit on fucking traitors,” she growled, grabbing rubbing alcohol this time. “Fucking drink up. I don’t want to have to tell you this twice. I will force it down your throat.” 

Aasim rolled his eyes, gulping the beer down quickly. God, he  _ hated _ alcohol, why did Mitch  _ always _ drink it? “There. I drank it, are you fucking happy?”

“I never am happy having to deal with you fucking kids. Now don’t fucking squirm.” 

The teen held his breath and tightened his fists as the woman cleaned the eye and then stitched it. It took every ounce out of him not to scream from the pain. The eye had been probably infected with that ratted dishrag he was given to try and… soak up the bleeding.

“What’s the damage?” Lilly asked the medic, hands behind her back.

The woman hummed, checking it over before saying anything in response. “The eye was crushed, it is going to be permanently blind—” 

“Fuck,” Lilly murmured.

“— and... there really isn’t much else I can do. It’s gonna scar, and it’s gonna look nasty. I’d suggest forcing a bandage wrap even when the eye is healed, possibly an eyepatch if we’re lucky.” 

Aasim’s right hand went up to his eye, not touching it, merely ghosting over it. They were talking about him like he was an animal. The nurse wouldn’t even say the damage of his own eye to him; instead, she says it to Lilly. Like a vet telling someone about their pet. “So, my vision is now monocular?” 

“Yes. You will only be able to see out of your left eye,” she said, annoyed.

He sighed, biting back the comment of ‘I know what the word means,’ as he was leaning back into the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. “Okay. Thank you.” 

“No fighting back?”

He took a long blink and looked off to the side. This is his chance to get their trust back. “I ran. I broke the rules. I made us lose a part of our family. I should have gotten worse. Don’t you agree?” 

“Worse? What do you mean by that?”

“You could have thrown me out. I would have died out there. You’re the only people who really need— want me. My’ friends’ gave me up. It was stupid of me to believe running away was smart. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to Mitchell. He would always make me believe what you guys did is wrong, but, when in reality, you’re just doing what you guys need to do to survive. And that’s that.” 

The nurse looked up at Lilly before standing up. “Ma’am? What do you think we should do?” 

“Leave him. We will check on him in the morning.”

Aasim looked up at Lilly and sighed as he saw her and the medic leave. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, curling in on himself, his face  _ hurt _ . He was  _ blinded _ . He could barely walk because the axe he got to the leg and later a gunshot to it.

_ ...How is Mitch doing…? Is he really dead? _ Aasim hugged himself. His leg was hurting like all hell, and there was nothing he could really do about it. As much as he wished. 

“Hey Gad,” he looked up at the guard. 

“Kid, you know you really be dumb as fuck, right?”

Aasim sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” he sighed. “I was so stupid. What do… I am so sorry.” 

“Don’t play that shit with me! I know you just trying to get me to feel sorry for ya and go easier on ya! I ain’t fallin’ for that. Do you hear what I’m sayin’?” 

“W-What?”

“I ain’t as dumb as you think!” Gad snapped. “You really think that would work on me!” 

“I didn’t say that!” Aasim stammered. “I swear! A-And I don’t know what you mean—” 

Gad bend down, staring at Aasim face to face. “I am watching you. If you fuckin’ do anything, I will snap your fucking neck!” 

“O-Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!”

The man laughed. “I still got it,” he stepped back. “Now I have to watch the cells since  _ you _ decided to be a dick and run away! I could be getting drunk, man!”

“Why do you guys always want to drink? I don’t get it.” 

“Because drinkin’ is amazing!” he laughed

Gad was always a weird one… He was the strangest without being actually creepy like Abel was. The older man just found everything funny. Probably because he was constantly drunk or… sometimes high. At least Aasim suspected that.

“How so…? How is it amazing? It’s killing you.”

“It makes you forget kiddo. And alcohol doesn’t kill you, that shit is a hoax.

He rolled his eyes. “Why would you want to forget? Oh wait, that’s why I’m the leader of a group in the information,” he snarked, deciding to ignore Gad’s stupidity on calling alcohol poisoning a hoax.

“Not anymore. And you were still ranked lower than average,” the man pulled out a cigar. “You’re just a little pyro. You aren’t smart, ya ain’t sly, and now, you ain’t ever gonna be aiming straight.” 

_ Little pyro _ . Aasim hadn’t said  _ anything _ about his past to the Delta, so how… “How the hell—”

“We have our ways. You aren’t able to keep jack shit from us, no matter how hard you fucking try.” 

Aasim stood up and walked to the bars of the cell. “Well, if you tell anyone else, this little pyro might have a burning body to clean up.” 

“Did you just threaten me? Kid,  _ did you just threaten me? _ ”

“Maybe I did,” Aasim smirked. He hated having to put up this asshole facade like this,  _ but it was how he needed to act to survive. Right? That’s what they always said.  _ “Why? Are you actually scared?” he let out a fake laugh.

“Ha! Maybe you will end up with some use, after all! Keep up this attitude.”

“Maybe I will, but right now? You know what? Just leave me alone,” Aasim said, moving and looking away from the guard. “Can I go to sleep?” 

“I don’t fucking care, just stay asleep, and don’t fucking bother me.”

Aasim rolled his eyes. “Alright. Sounds good to me…” he turned away and rested his head on the pillow. He wondered how Mitch was… he told Dorian that he was pretty sure the other was dead, but… was he? Was he really?


	5. Chapter 5

               Mitch ran up to the gates, staring at Willy on guard, gasping for breath. “Willy— William, goddamnit, open the fucking gate now!” he glanced behind his shoulder, covered in blood — his own and walkers’ — a wheeze in his tone. “Fucking open it! Now! Fucking walkers!”

               The eleven-year-old stared at him from above in horror before he slid down the ladder, opening the school’s smaller gate to see Mitch run in and slam the gate closed. “Mitch!”

               The teen stumbled back as Willy wrapped his arms around him, using his leg to close the gate. “Willy, you’re okay,” he whispered as his own arms wrapped around the boy as he hugged him. “You’re okay. God, you’re  _ alive _ .”

               “Mitch, it’s you.”

               “Yep, it’s me.” Mitch smiled as Willy cried, digging his face into Mitch’s chest and later his shoulder when Mitch bent down to his height. “I missed you so much.” 

               Willy laughed, rubbing the tears away from his face, removing himself from the hug. “Guys! Guys!” he shouted. “Mitch is back!” he said, dragging Mitch inside the courtyard.

               Ruby walked over to the taller teen, staring with disbelief. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

               “No, no, I’m not. Is that really what Marlon and Brody told you? That we died?” Mitch said harshly, putting Willy down. “Obviously, we’re— I’m not fucking dead.”

               “What happened to your face?” Willy asked, cocking his head.

               Mitch noticed the scar running on Willy’s face, going from the chin over his lips to the left side of the boy’s face near the nose, but decided not to comment and instead touched the scar on the side of his head that fell over his eyebrow, he sighed. “You know me, it was something stupid,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you later, okay? And, Ruby, we’re both alive. Aasim’s alive… probably.”

               “Aasim’s... Aasim’s alive? Where is he?” Louis stepped forward, coming from nowhere. “Mitch, please tell me… you said— if he is alive?” he said again, the worry for his former boyfriend seeping through any other thought he had. “He’s alive? Where is he!?”

               “... yes…” Mitch sighed. “Probably. We used a herd of walkers to escape, he got shot, and I— I couldn’t go back and… if the walkers didn’t get to him, he’s alive…”

               “He got shot?”

               Mitch closed his eyes. “In the leg with some rifle, he couldn’t get up—”

               “Stop! Stop, please, I… I got it…” the boy with the dreads sighed, trying to fight the tears.

               Ruby looked the taller teen up and down before glancing at his hand. “Mitch— what, what the fuck happened to your hand?”

               “I broke them,” he muttered, looking at the makeshift cast. Somehow he could still see the missing fingers on his hand.

               “No... I mean your fingers… they’re…”

               His pinky, his ring finger, and the first joint of his middle finger. “Oh, yeah. I got some fingers missing,”’ he said nonchalantly while shrugging. “It’s not a big deal. I like… barely notice now.”

               “Why? Like, how?”

               “Marlon traded me to those fucking raiders and they—” before Mitch could finish his answer, he heard footsteps and heard a voice.

               “What’s going on out here?” Minerva said as her sister, Violet, and Tenn walked over to the courtyard, eyes on Willy, Ruby, Louis, and the ‘stranger.’

               Of course, Willy saw nothing wrong, smiling widely. “Mitch is back!” he said, pointing at his brother.

               “What? Mitch is back?” Sophie looked around, not seeing him, “Willy—” she looked at who Willy was pointing at.

               Minnie also looked at the teen, sighing. “Willy, we know you miss Mitch, but this person, this isn’t him. Just look at him! I’m taller than Mitch. Lou and Mar are also taller! You  _ know _  Mitch would never dress like this, and he has always had long hair. This… this person looks like he just started growing his hair out! He doesn’t even sound like Mitch! This isn’t your brother,” Minnie said.

               Sophie took a step between Willy and Mitch. “Who  _ are _  you?”

               “Minerva, it  _ is _  me. My voice changed, I got a haircut! I changed clothes because I fucking _  grew _  because that’s how time  _ works. _  Sorry, I don’t look  _ exactly _  the same as I did  _ almost  _ a  _ year _  ago! I didn’t know you guys were  _ that _  fucking stupid!”

               “Prove it.” Violet stepped forward. “How do we know you’re Mitch?”

               “How the fuck? How am I supposed to do that? My name is Mitchell, and you guys have known me for seven fucking years. Can you really not tell it’s fucking me? Prove it? What the  _ fuck _ ?!”

               Louis looked down at the ground. “What was the name of my turtle? I told you because we both had turtles before all this. What was my turtle’s name?”

               “I had a tortoise. And, um, fuck, wasn’t it like Geoff, or Geoffrey? Spelled with like a G or something? I don’t fucking remember.”

               “What is Tenn’s relationship with me and Minnie?” Sophie said, narrowing her eyes.

               Mitch crossed his arms. “Tenn… he is your brother,” he deadpanned. “Look, if you guys don’t believe me, I can just leave. I don’t want to fucking deal with this.”

“W-What’s my full name?” Willy asked from behind Sophie, talking over Mitch.

               “It’s William. You didn’t want to go by Bill or Billy because your name is  _ Will _ iam, not  _ Bill _ iam,” he said more softly, letting out a small laugh as he was uncrossing his arms and standing straight. “You made such a big deal about it, going on about how the name has Will in it, not Bill.”

               “Mitch is the only person I told that to! It is him!” Willy pushed Sophie’s arm away, hugging the teen— his brother.

               “Yep, I remember,” Mitch whispered, hugging Willy tightly. “I remember,” he closed his eyes.

               Ruby sighed. “Mitch, the bandage on your hand, I should fix it. It looks loose.”

               Mitch stared at it, taking off the loose wrap with only a quick movement. His pointer and his middle fingers all crooked and broken from the breaks.

               “Shit, those are broken. That needs to get wrapped up.”

               “Mitch, what happened to your fingers?” Minnie asked, her heart pounding in her ears. “Your hand is all scarred, a-and you’re missing fingers, and they’re broken.”

               “I’m aware,” Mitch deadpanned, turning to Ruby. “You want me to go in the nurses’ or you bringin’ the medkit out here?”

               Ruby glanced at the crossbow on his back. “Uh, nurses’. Just don’t bring those things in there,” she nodded towards his crossbow and the axe. “Okay?”

               “Uh, yeah,” he takes the strap off his shoulder, laying it on a picnic table. “Just, nobody touch them, okay?  _ Please _ ?”

               Everyone glared at him and shrugged.

               Mitch took that, walking to the nurses’ office, sitting down on one cot. “Is Tenn still learning how to do this?”

               “Yep, need someone to help if I’m the one hurt,” she opened the medical kit, grabbing out a needle and thread, some of the skin was torn. “Are… are all these scars from your fingers? Being cut off?”

               “Yes, and being broken. But, yeah. It’s whatever,” Mitch said before he looked off to the side.

               She took his hand. “They don’t look like someone has broken them. Well, other than now. They don’t look broken previously is what I’m saying… though it  _ does _  look like someone burned them with like, a cigarette or something.”

               “The medic there always set my fingers…” He yanked his hand back to his chest, trying to ignore her comment on the burns. She couldn’t know it was his problem to deal with and his alone.

               “Mitch? Where are the burns from?”

               “...nowhere.”

               “So they just appeared?” she raised an eyebrow as she blankly questioned him.

               “...yes,” Mitch said nervously.

               “Did they fucking burn your hand, Mitch? Did they chop off and break your fingers as well as burn your fucking hand?”

               The tall teen just looked away, still holding his hand to himself.

               “...Or did you do that to yourself? The burns?” she asked him.

               His eyes glanced away as he kept his hand to himself. How the fuck did Ruby figure him out so quickly? He could’ve made up some lie about how they would burn him with cigarettes, but no. Mitch did that to himself, and now he has to suffer the consequences. They told Mitch that doing shit like that was terrible and only going to make him weak, but does he ever listen? No, no, he never does. He’s a pathetic and scared child. That is all he will ever be, he couldn’t be anything else even if he wanted to be.

               “ _ Mitch _ .”

               “Yes. The burns? Yeah, they were me. Okay? That place fucking sucked, and I did shit that I  _ really  _ want to just forget. Okay?!” he snapped at her. “Just let me try, and  _ fucking  _ **_ forget _ ** _  it. _ ”

               The redhead sighed, arms uncrossing. “You burned yourself with cigarettes?”

               “Smoked ’em too,” he deadpanned. “Drank, too, lost the fingers ’cause they caught me stealing shit.”

               “Mitch. They cut off all your fingers cause you were stealing alcohol?” she asked. “And I’m not going to just forget about the burns, okay? Just… you can talk to me if you ever feel like—”

               “It wasn’t my first time stealing it, and they only wanted to cut off the pinky. I struggled too much, and I… Just do your thing on my fingers, and let’s go,” he spoke over her comment on the burns, placing his hand out for her to grab it. “Seriously. I’m out of that place. I’ll be fine.”

               Ruby sighed as she started to straighten the fingers it, half expecting Mitch to punch or kick her, but nothing. He sat there, saying nothing as she places some things to keep the fingers straight and wrapping them and his hand up. “Mitch, what happened? Why did Marlon and Brody tell us, y’all were dead when y’all ain’t?”               

               “Look…. They traded us to these… to these raiders, for your ‘safety,’” he bent his fingers on his right hand, imitating quotation marks. “I ran up to this guy, Abel, but he fucking grabbed my hair, yanking on it as Marlon and that asshole made a deal. Brody told him to stop, but you know fucking Marlon didn’t listen. Hit me upside the head with a gun, and I woke up, stripped to my socks and underwear, Aasim stripped to his undershirt, socks, and jeans. New clothes were waiting for us. The ones we were wearing ‘weren’t safe’ apparently,” he stood up. “It doesn’t matter, Marlon just fucking traded us like it was nothing. I don’t fucking  _ care _ .”

               The girl looked at the ground, an angered expression on her face. “Marlon should be back from hunting soon. We’re going to talk about this. Brody was—”

               “Do you not believe me? Why else would I leave? Why else would Aasim leave?”

               “That ain’t what I was saying, all I mean is that we need to deal with this. And… Aasim…”

               Mitch sighed. “They’re gone. The group… he’s with them. They aren’t supposed to come back this way for another four months or so. They’ll probably change their schedule with me being gone, a detriment their safety. They don’t want anything happening.”

               “Fuck… well, Brody was there, right?”

               “Yeah…” Mitch looked away. Remembering what happened was really hurting him. “She was there. Marlon, Brody, me, and Aasim.”

               Ruby rubbed her temples. “Brody is fishing with Omar. Do… I knew something was off!” She threw her hands away from her face. 

               “Off?”

               “She and Marlon started ‘dating’ not long after you ‘died,’” she made quotation marks with her hands. “We thought you were dead, and I told her to allow herself some time to grieve… I should have  _ known _  that Brody wouldn’t get with Marlon—”

               Mitch sighed. “She’d start dating Minnie or Violet before him— are they still together?”

               “No, they broke up not too long after y’ all went missing, a month, maybe. Violet was helping Louis and Willy grieve. Minnie didn’t like she wasn’t spending as much time with her, so they just… they split. Brody said you told her to watch after Willy?”

               The brunette sighed. “I said if I’m gone, and Aasim isn’t there to take care of him, I wanted her to. The three of us made that agreement a long while ago… I think that was a few months before…” he stopped. 

               “Fuck you!” Willy’s voice  **_ loudly _ **  echoed through the room. 

               “Fuck!” Mitch ran out of the nurses’ office and out of the admin building, stopping when he saw Marlon, hands up, staring at Willy, who had an arrow pointed at the blonde.

               Willy was not having any of Marlon’s shit. “Stop fucking lying! Mitch isn’t dead! I know Mitch ain’t dead!  _ Fuck  _ you!”

               “I told you, I saw them get ripped apart by walkers! Willy, I’m not lying, you’re just fucking ridiculous!”

               “Well, you’re lying! I know it! You fucking bastard!”

               Marlon let out a low laugh. “Willy, do you even know what that means? And, honestly, do you think I’d lie about this? He was like— no, he  _ was  _ your brother!  _ Why _  would I lie about that?” Marlon placed his hands on his hips. “It’s okay to miss him! But that doesn’t mean that you get to pull an arrow on me, okay? Just take a deep breath and put the bow down.”

               “Shut up!” Willy shouted.

               “Willy, how would Mitch feel about you pointing a fucking arrow at me?! Didn’t he tell you—”

               Furrowing his brows, Mitch grabbed his knife out of his sheath, running up to Marlon, holding it close, slamming the older onto one of the trees in the courtyard. “Do you ever  _ shut up _ ?”

               “Who the fuck are you? How the  _ fuck  _ did you get into the school?! What the  _ fuck _  do you want with us?”

               “Don’t recognize me?” Mitch glared at the older teen, tightening his grasp around the handle of the knife. “I guess  _ eight months _  of being gone after traded away can do that! Things are bound to change. Time can change someone. But you fucking haven’t.  _ Not one  _ **_ fucking  _ ** _ bit _ . You’re still a fucking  _ coward _ , Marlon!”

               The blonde stared at the face in front of him, the height, the scar, the shorter hair that was pulled into a ponytail, those threw him off, but the eyes, the nose, the freckles scattered across his face, neck, and hands, there was no doubt in his mind who it was. “Mitchell?” he asked in shock. “Holy shit—  _ Mitch? _ ”

               Curling his lip, Mitch scoffed. “Damn, straight. It’s fuckin’ me.”

               “Put the knife down, Mitch! We can solve this without resulting in fucking violence!” the redhead yelled harshly.

               “Shut up, Minerva! I don’t need your fucking shit right now!” he snapped, making the tall girl take a step back.

               Willy put his bow down, now staring at Mitch. He was hurt and confused. The Mitch he knew before wasn’t like this… the change was starting to scare him.

“You don’t know what this bastard made me do! He gave me away! They made me kill a  _ child _ ! These people made me take the lives of people— they made me torture people. And all because this asshole is so fucking cowardly! Traded us off.”

               “Mitchell, you killed a fucking child? Dude, what the fuck?!” Ruby took a step forward. “Who  _ are _  you?”

               “I didn’t really have a fucking choice, Ruby!” he pushed her back with one hand. “She would kill me and then kill him herself! Threaten to fucking  _ torture  _ and then  _ murder _  Aasim! I didn’t want to fucking do it!” Mitch glared down at the medic, knife still tightly heals up against Marlon’s neck. “But guess what? I had to. I had to do so many things I didn’t want to do. I was just trying to survive. Hope the next punishment they gave me wouldn’t be my last, hoping it wouldn’t be the one that  _ killed _  me! All because if she—” 

               “She?” Louis asked, his voice shaking from fear. “W-Who is she?”

               “The leader or well,  _ one of _  the leaders. God, she was— is a fucking nightmare.  _ It _  is a fucking nightmare,” he snarled. “And you don’t even know the half of it!” Mitch held the knife closer to Marlon’s. “You fucking asshole! Look at my face! Look at my hand! Do you see the shit they did to me?!”

               “I’m sorry. I’m  _ so  _ **_ sorry _ ** .” The leader put his hands up to shield himself, but Mitch’s left arm slammed harshly into his chest, the knife in his right hand still close to the blonde’s throat.

               “No! You don’t get to be! You don’t get to be sorry! You should have let Aasim shot fucking Abel. You should have done  _ something _ . There were so many things you could have done. You could have traded  _ yourself _  like a real fucking leader would do. Put your people before yourself. But no. You traded away an  _ eleven-year-old’s  _ only guardians. What would have happened if Brody didn’t step up like I asked? What would have happened?”

               “Mitch...” Willy stepped up, but his brother ignored him. Willy knew if Brody didn’t help him, he would have probably died. He would never have learned to take care of himself while still being a stupid  _ kid _ .

               “After two weeks, they made us run drill, after drill, after drill. Running, dodging, archery, crossbows, snipers, shotguns, melee. We couldn’t go to sleep until we did it right; there were sometimes where I was up for hours after lights out. But if I was too tired the next day? That don’t matter. I had to hope I could do it right or I would be up all night again. Never get any fucking sleep. Because I am ‘large’ and ‘stocky’, I had to fight adults that were  _ so _  much larger than me. But a tank shouldn’t feel pain, they have to just  _ take it _ .”

               “Mitch!”

               “I talk back or make anything  _ remotely _  snarky, they broke a fucking finger, yet at any other time, they’d treat us like we’re fucking family. They acted like they  _ loved _ us.”

               “Mitchell!” Willy shouted, which made his brother stop in his tracks. “Stop it!  _ Please _ !”

               The tallest teen put the knife down to his side and looked around, and everyone looked horrified at what they heard. “Shit,” he muttered. “I-I’m—”

               “Mitch, just drop it. Let Marlon talk,” Omar said as he crossed his arms.

               The tallest put his hands up, looking at the floor in almost shamed, biting back an ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ that was rising up his throat. Mitch lowered his hands to his side and watched Marlon. He’d love to see this fucker’s explanation.

               “I-I made a mistake, I…”

               “Made a mistake, Marlon, I told you this would only end badly!” Brody shouted. “You made me keep this secret. Expose yourself.”

               “Brody, shut up! Just let me explain! Okay?!”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Owolivia for helping me write this! 
> 
> So from now on, one chapter will be at the school and one will be in the Delta. Enjoy!

               The sounds of arguing filled Aasim’s ears as he got out of his bed, limping over to the cell door to try to see what was going on. His leg was on fire, and his head hurt like all hell. The loud arguing didn’t help his headache. It’s not like he can do anything for it anyway.

               “Lillian, you can’t just kill him because he’s partially blind,” The medic retorted. “You have to at least give him a chance at surviving! A chance to prove himself. Right?”

               “What about that leg?! That is going to make it a lot harder to take care of him. Think of all the supplies, medicine and fucking  _ time _ , we’ll waste on him, and he might die! Have you fucking thought about that?”

              The medic sighed… at least that’s who it sounded like. “If it gets worse, we chop it off and get him a prosthetic. He isn’t a tank or a runner, so that will be fine for him. Just don’t aggravate the leg. Let it rest before you make him train again.”

              “Listen to that, Lilly!” Aasim called out. “Maybe take some advice.”

               The woman in charge rubbed her forehead. “Ah, you’re awake. How did you sleep?” she asked him, her tone of voice showing she really didn’t care how Aasim slept.

              “I thought you knew I didn’t sleep, ma’am. Insomnia.”

              “Right,” she said sarcastically.

              Aasim crossed his arms, looking at the woman’s scarred face and blinded eye. “Why did you say you want me dead because I now have some monocular vision when you have it yourself? I didn’t hear the entire conversation, and I think this is one of the few times I deserve to get filled in, you know?”

              “Because I am an adult. You are a  _ child _ ,” her voice was stern. “What else could it be? I thought you called yourself intelligent.” 

               Aasim rolled his eye. “Oh wow. You know children are more likely to adapt to these sorts of things right? That’s why it’s easier to learn new languages when you’re a child. I thought  _ you  _ called yourself intelligent.”

               The woman bent down slightly, staring him in the eyes. “Maybe if you stop defying me, and if you prove it to me, I’ll change my stance. You  _ might _ just be allowed to live”

              He gulped. “Yes, ma’am. I will… I will do my best to prove myself to you.”

              “I will go get you your breakfast slop, and then we’re going to start training.”

              The medic stepped forward. “Ma’am, I told you he needs rest if you want his leg to stay intact! Let him rest just a few more days.”

              “You are out of line! Do not tell me what to do with  _ my  _ soldiers!” She shouted. “You do your job, and I do mine. Do you understand?”

              “Yes, ma’am,” the medic said, putting her hands up to protect herself in case Lilly decided to start swinging and hit her. Which the leader often did to people she thought were defying her orders.

              Lilly took a step forward. “Are you sure? Because if you don’t, I can make arrangements to make sure you absolutely understand.”

              “N-No, ma’am. I truly understand. I swear.”

               Aasim looked down, hearing some bowl get dropped, some of the food spilling. He grabbed the bowl and started eating. He felt like vomiting but kept eating. He was so hungry. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast… what, two days ago? He scarfed it down like a madman, 

               “Check his eye before we start.”

              She sighed. The medic rolled her eyes, coming into the cell. “Take off the bandage wrap, you heard her, I just need to check it, alright?”

              The teen did just that, cringing at the sound of the bandages peeling off of his eyes, the blood has made it sticky. He tried his best not to gag as he finished pulling it off and throwing it to the side. “Yeah, so, how’s it lookin’? Does it look like shit?” he joked. 

              “Doesn’t look too bad,” she shrugged, grabbing the things she needed to clean up the eye from her bag. “Seen worse.”

              “You sure about that? It feels horrible, you just peeled those bandages off of my face.”

              The medic sighed. “Gad was fucking right about you, good god.”

              “Gad just called me a little pyro, what could he have said?”

              She didn’t respond and just continued to clean the eye,  _ which burned like all fucking hell _ , before wrapping it up and giving Aasim an awkward pat on the back.

              “Um, what…?”

              “Just take it, kid.”

              Aasim rolled his eye and just sighed. “So, when are you going to make me start training?”

              “Now.”

              The teen jerked back. “Now? When my leg is still fucked up and you only just started to clean my eye?! Are you fucking kidding me?”

              “No. No, I am not. Dorian should be in the main area. Go there now. We’re heading home now, and that’s where most of your training will be taking place. Now head there before I change my mind and put a bullet in your brain.”

              “Yes, ma’am,” he said, heading to the deck. Aasim closed his eyes and turned away. It had only been a couple of hours, and Lilly was already forcing him back into training, saying that with his monocular eyes, it didn’t matter, and he needed to train. He would still be held to the same expectations as he was before.

              “Can you not come up on my fucking blindside? Ever heard of easing up to something? You can’t throw a baby in a lake and expect it to swim.”

               “You aren’t a baby, we throw you in, and you need to swim!” Lilly snapped. “Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth!”

               Aasim flinched at the woman. “But— how am I supposed—”

               “Listen to Dorian’s footsteps and dodge when you think she’s going to attack! It’s simple! I understood this within a day! You, on the other hand, are complaining and comparing yourself to a baby!”

               “But I—”

              Dorian landed a punch into Aasim’s side, making him leap back, curling into it. He made a yelp of pain, closing his eyes.

              “Pay attention!” Dorian snapped.

_ Oh god _ . “Come on, come at me, I’m keeping my eyes closed.”

               “With both eyes closed? Are you crazy?”

              “Yeah, so the only thing I can use is my ears… This way I…”

              “Hey! Hey, I got it!” She snapped at him and ran toward him, almost hitting him but missing when he stepped to the side last second. Dorian fell to the floor with a loud thud.

               “Actually, I like that idea better. Dorian, keep practicing that,” Lilly commanded her.

               “Yes, ma’am.”

               Aasim breathed in. His leg was on  _ fire _ . And it felt like it was about to fall off his  _ fucking body _ . Yet they were forcing him to train and probably worsen his leg. 

              But they didn’t care. No one in this damn place cared about anything. 

              People get hurt. The strong ones survive. The weak ones die.

              At least, that’s how the Delta always saw it. It’s what they forced into everyone’s heads. It’s what they forced into the children. That asking for help is a sign of weakness and will get you killed.

              It’s what made everything so tricky when it came to working there. If you didn’t do it well, you were worthless, not as trustworthy. But if you asked for help? You were weak and not worthy of staying alive.

              The weak die. There are even people who you persevere as strong, will still be unworthy of help when they die, because that is weakness. It never made any sense to Aasim, but that’s how it worked.

              “Aasim!”

              The teen snapped up to attention. “Yes, ma’am!” 

              “Pay attention, or I will fucking reck you.”

              “Y-Yes, ma’am…” he closed his eyes, doing the exercise over again. Aasim thought it was great to listen to Dorian continue to trip and fall because he was dodging out of the way and forcing her to lose her balance and fall face first.

              The woman grumbled, getting up. “I hate this! You work just fine! Get back in your goddamn room, I am sick of falling on my damn ass!” 

              “But Lilly said to—”

              Dorian gave Aasim a death glare which shut him up almost immediately. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he said and sighed, walking back to his room, hearing a soft meow come from the walls, which forced him over to the area, searching for the sound. That had led him to a small newborn cat with their mother, who seemed to pass away, as well as the littermates of the orange cat. Their eyes were closed, and their ears were folded back. They really were a young kitten.

              “Were you the one meowing? It didn’t sound like a little baby cat, but it had to be you since everyone else is…” he looked at the kitten’s littermates and mother. “I’m sorry, kitty. I’ll take care of you from now on. Least I can do something right…”

              He started to walk to his dorm, the kitten kneading his chest, making soft kitten mews.

              “Oh… god, you’re probably hungry… shit… um… wait, how am I supposed to take care of you?” Aasim held the cat tighter.  _ There are cows back on the base, so there’s milk. Just got to get some to the kitten… yeah, you can do this Aasim. Mitch took care of Willy… you can take care of a cat. You can do it. _

              Aasim headed into the kitchen area of the boat, which was more like a storage area, and grabbed what looked like baby food and water. “How do I feed you… Maybe a syringe? Let’s go to the medic’s office… station… whatever the fuck it’s called.” he said as he did just that, heading into the make-shift medic station.

              “Yes, what do you— oh my, did the cat give birth?” she said, shocked, as she looked at the kitten in Aasim’s hands.

              “What?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

              She suddenly stood up, grabbing something from her locked closet, “I noticed a pregnant cat, and I was getting prepared. Where’s her mom?”

              “She’s dead. All but this one is… dead. His littermates… he’s the sole survivor, I guess.”

              The medic frowned. “Are you gonna be taking care of this one? And what’s the baby food and water for?”

              “If you’ll allow me…?” he asked her. “You said you got prepared. If you want, you can take him… I don’t know if I’ll do it well enough. Like I’ve never taken care of a kitten before. And… I just was going to mix it, so he had something to eat.”

              She nodded. “Of course. Just… keep this one out of Lilly’s sight. Once she’s big and strong, Lilly might take her to… be… well a meal for us,” she handed Aasim a syringe and a bottle. “Here, it’s some kitten formula. You can do the water and baby food when he’s bigger. I trust you to take care of her. You need something to do while your eye and leg are healing.”

              “How the hell did you find fucking kitten formula?”

              “I have my ways. Just… feed her as much as you can. I’ll do check-ups if you need me to. I was originally going to be a vet before I changed to be a doctor-doctor.” 

              Aasim smiled. “That would be really helpful. Thanks. I’ll be heading to my room. How much should I feed him? Like a milliliter…?”

              “Until his little belly is full, it depends on his size more than anything else. Sounds good? And make sure you stimulate him to use the restroom. After you feed him. Just rub a small tissue until he pees.”

              He nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll do just that.”  

              The medic stopped him from leaving. “How is your leg, by the way?”

              Aasim sighed. “I’m still limping, but I think that I’m going to deal with that for the rest of my life…”

              “Yeah, yeah. You probably will. I will try to get Lilly to back off of you so that you can keep resting, okay? I don’t want to have to cut off any limbs.”

              “Why are you so nice to me? I thought you liked it here?”

              The medic rubbed her face. “I don’t like to see kids get hurt. And I don’t want to see this kitten… ya know, die. Just watch out for the kitten and yourself.”

              “Yes, ma’am… can I go now?”

              “Yes. Take good care of him, okay?”

              “I will do my damndest,” Aasim smiled as he started to head to the part of the boat that had the rooms, and heading into his, Aasim sighed as he sat down on his bed.

              He laid down, looking up at the bottom of the empty bunk above him. Aasim pet the cat gently. “You’re really cold…” he pulled the kitten closer, hoping to warm him up. “What should I name you…? You’re orange… What about Fanta? The soda, god, I really miss sodas— and wow! I’m talking to a cat,” he sighed and smiled, beginning to warm up the kitten as best he could. He was going to help this little kitten grow.

              He grabbed the syringe and took the formula, feeding the kitten. The baby began suckling and took as much as he could. Aasim smiled widely, he felt so much joy taking care of this baby. “Are you done with that formula?” he smiled, grabbing a tissue. “Okay, well,” he did what the medic told him to do. After the kitten was done, he smiled, tossing the tissue in the trash. 

              “We’re going to help you grow big and strong, okay?” he smiled widely. “God, you’re so cute. I have no idea why my dad hated cats so much. You’re so fucking cute,” Aasim laughed, petting Fanta as he mewed softly. “Oh my god, you’re precious,” he smiled even wider if that was even possible. “We should give you a wash… let’s see,” he stood up and carried the kitten to the men’s restroom and to the sink where he filled it up. One of the few good things about this place was the running water.

              Short little mews bounced off the walls of the bathroom, the usual drip-drop of water droplets falling back into the bath, disrupting the silence. The chatter of the cloth and the kitten’s fur was subtle, their silent conversation as they came into contact, making Aasim bite his lip. The coat of the kitten was oily for sure, and the slightly hardened cloth made unpleasant sounds as it slid over it, the water barely even sticking to it, sliding right off, back into the bathtub.

              As Fanta squirmed and flicked his ears, some of the water stuck between his oily furs got thrown off, hitting Aasim in the face. He took a deep breath, tightening his grip on Fanta’s body, but not tight enough to actually make the experience unpleasant. He didn’t want him to slip from his grasp. “Hold still, you gremlin.” Fanta flicked his ears.

              The cloth met fur again, Aasim’s nose scrunching up as he added a bit more product onto the fabric, swearing under his breath at the smell. “Why do animal products smell so weird?” He continued his motions with the cloth, the edges of his mouth lifting into a tiny smile when dirty drops invaded the large lake of clean water underneath. “Finally. Who knew you’d need this much shampoo, little guy? You’re so small. Like, so fucking small.”

              Fanta yawned in response. 

              Aasim moved the cloth to the other side of the kitten’s tiny body, rubbing and rubbing, occasionally drowning the fabric in the water below to clean it, then coming back up and resuming the cleaning. 

              Aasim jumped as Fanta hissed out of nowhere, his sudden motion almost scaring Aasim into dropping him into the water below, mouth opened, and he looked angry despite his eyes not even being open yet. Aasim didn't know newborn cats could hiss. Maybe Fanta was special. 

              “Jesus fuckin’ Christ— what the hell, Fanta?” Aasim scolded, narrowing his own eyes in response. His face softened as he noticed a tinted drop of water hit the bath, the pure red pigment spreading once it met the water. “Oh shit.” 

              Taking a closer look at the other part of Fanta’s body, Aasim gaped in horror. A freshly reopened wound laid there, covered by the ginger fur that was now stained red.  


             "Shit..." Aasim muttered.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is King-of-clubs98


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